RipFork

Artist: Wilco

Album: Self-Titled

Reviewer: Mike Powell

The Village Voice, 2009

Writing Disorders: Scorn Disease

Longest Sentence: 69 words

Weirdest Invitation for a Beatdown: “they wanted to look grizzled and wiser without being mistaken for two-bits, social conservatives, and/or drunk drivers”

Most Emo Phrase: “mind-numbing critical adulation”

Something Only a Rock Critic Would Say: “Wilco are not the American Radiohead.”

First of all…why are you being so mean? Did you just have a doctor’s thumb up your ass during an eye exam? Listen to yourself.

“Precise instrumentalists who make mushy, edgeless music.”

“It was also the kind of superficial great-leap-forward that inspires mind-numbing critical adulation”

“Not awful-just turgid and boring”

“What happened, it turns out, was that Wilco’s albums became less turgid and more boring”

“Most of this had to do with Tweedy being left to explore his own ass with his head”

You know what I think, Mike? I think you only have the gall to write this kind of warmongering because most bands that play rock music are slight of build. And their fans are slight of build. And they’re too busy playing instruments or listening to music to work up the energy to threaten your ass kicking. When you have the gall, but not the balls, you’re writing for the wrong reasons.

But whatever man, that little dance you do is fine with me. I love your subtitle on this review. It really stood out.

“Music for white people to relax to, and what’s wrong with that?”

I understand how music can also help people to wallow in self-pity or maybe jack off to Kim Gordon. But Mike, most music is used by people to relax. Whether it’s accompanied by screaming, playing air guitar, dancing, or resting in a rocking chair, music helps people relax. So to write your lead as Wilco exemplifying something that most music accomplishes anyway…is dumb. White man gotta unwind too, brotha.

And damn, look at Mike, throwing it down on the court. Facializing musicians with barbs like:

“Two healthy guitarists who alternate featherlight solos with the sound of breeze and rustle. (The pussyfooters call this “atmospherics.” Whatever it is, it’s very tasteful.)”

None of that pussyfooting in these parts! Who needs a single-word explanation when you can get RIGHT to the point with featherlight, breeze, RUSTLE! The way you drag out a sentence gives me the vapors, I do declare!

And then, Mike, there are times when I just don’t get you.

“The band bucks a couple of times, hardest on “Bull Black Nova”-actually, it’s the hardest they’ve bucked on record since before Foxtrot.”

Look, dude, I know you’re trying to look “more grizzled and wiser than you are” by using the word “buck” instead of “rock.” But in the end, they’re just two little words and one makes a lot more sense than the other. Would this hardcore “bucking” be Wilco’s ticket to legitimacy if they could only keep it up? You can do it, Wilco! Keep on bucking Mike Powell! Buck him good! Oh, let him have that dry, hard bucking that you haven’t recreated since an earlier album!

And finally, hundreds of words later, there’s your finale:

“There’s an image I have of Jeff Tweedy I can’t shake. In it, he’s Wilson, Tim Allen’s neighbor on Home Improvement. I remember nothing…-”

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Whoa there, Mr. “I didn’t give many reasons to like me.” Put the brakes on. Why should we put stock in your dumb Home Improvement metaphor? But who are we kidding anyway? I’m sure most readers either typed in “Redtube” or listened to Wilco before they got anywhere close to your gong-crashing conclusion.

And to the handful of people who still stuck around and laughed a hearty guffaw or praised your insight…I don’t think we could chat much without me thinking you all subsist on your own farts.

By the way, Mike, if you feel like retaliating against me, I’ll give you a 5 snark headstart…

…the whole time I was writing this, I was listening to Billy Joel!